


Giving Head

by ShadowWolf421



Category: Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed Unity, Michael Fassbender - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, French Revolution, Guillotine, Historical References, Light Bondage, Other, Paris (City), Prison Interrogation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:06:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowWolf421/pseuds/ShadowWolf421
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about a young girl named Colette set to the backdrop of chaos-torn, blood-frenzied Paris in March of 1794</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Witness to an Execution

The crowd roared with excitement.  Screams of “Off with his head!” broke the rest of the clamor, falling like waves upon this sea of people - men, women, and even children were packed in every crevice  of the Place de L’Hôtel de Ville. They were all cheering as the next of the condemned was loaded under the guillotine’s blade. Guards tried to at least keep the perimeter around the platform clear.Some of those close to the execution platform shook long pikes, hoping the executioners would plop a newly-severed head on. Those which such morbid trophies would victoriously parade them around the square.

   
  
  


Colette watched  this chaos from the safety of a two-story high balcony, her eyes trained intently on the carnage. The blade guide was now in place over the victim’s neck;and after the crier made his usual announcement of name and crime, the angled blade came crashing down, killing the wretch. The overseer picked up the head out of the basket, raising it by the hairs for the crowd to see. They went wild with added roars of approval. He tossed it back into the blood-stained basket while two others grabbed the body and tossed it onto a cart waiting just below. The whole process started over again with the next poor soul being pulled out of the prison wagon to make the short walk up the platform steps.  

 

She sighed deeply. These executions were becoming more popular than the plays she used to attend.“What poor aristocratic bastard met his end now?” asked a male voice cloaked in a thick Irish accent from behind her. She turned around and looked at him. He was standing behind the kitchen counter, polishing a glass, his green eyes looking down at the task before him and then back at her.  

 

Colette shook her head. “Wasn’t nobility,” her accent somewhat matched his, but was a bit muddled with a hint of Parisian aire.  “Just some poor asshole they didn’t like.” she said lowly, removing a few strands of her long auburn hair from her face and tucking them behind her ear. “Wait a minute! I can see him better now. Oh no! No! Sean, It’s Monsieur Toussaint! Look there, on his cheek! The scar he got last winter!” She could almost hear his desperate pleas as they strapped him to the board.  
  


Sean quickly set the glass on the counter and hurried to the window by her. “I’ll be damned! What does the program say it is he’s being executed for?” his gaze turned toward a piece of paper she was holding in her right hand. These flyers were given out as if the spectators were attending a sporting event or a play.

 

Turning it over, she began reading through the names until she found Toussaint. “Crimes against France. That's  all it says. Why, that could be anything or nothing!"

 

Sean seethed, "It's shite, it is!" Toussaint had been a good friend and neighbor for a good many years, to everyone in the district. Colette was worried when he hadn't  come to call three days in a row. She  had hoped he had found respite in the countryside. Instead, she was horrified to see him under the blade.  The crowd jeered as they slid him under. A nearby priest was hurriedly reading Last Rites, as one of the executioners set the blade guide over his neck. This was all ceremonious repetition to them, dulled to the effects of gore and insanity. The guillotine didn’t care who was being fed to it, and neither did they. The only emotion they felt at all was when they played to the crowd. Again, the crier made his announcement. The very people Toussaint had helped and lived among were now chanting for his death.

  
Colette screamed as the overseer let the rope loose. Down came the guillotine’s blade upon Toussaint’s neck, ending him.  She turned and sobbed against Sean, her tears soaking some of his ginger beard in the process.   
  
“ _Mon Dieu_! What is going on?!” demanded a slim Frenchman. He entered from one of the bedrooms. Colette looked into his hazel eyes as he came closer.  He joined them, looking out the window in time to see them toss the body into the death cart.   
  
“Jacques,” Sean began, “it’s Toussaint. He was the latest to fall to the National Razor.”  Jacques gasped, a bit taken back, but managed to compose himself enough to put an arm around each of them, pulling them into his embrace. The trio looked on in silence, in honor of their longtime friend.


	2. Personas Non Gratta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colette goes through Toussaint's possessions and runs into a mysterious man.

Colette sat behind the bar in their pub under their living quarters. She impatiently drummed her fingers on the polished wooden surface, huffing.  “Mind the pub Colette. We’ll be back, Colette. Too dangerous for a young woman,” she said in a mocking tone of what Jacques had told her. “He was my friend, too!” She huffed again, bored out of her mind. The liquor was stocked, the bar polished, and the floors swept. She had run out of things to occupy her time until Sean and Jacques returned.

  
She was contemplating practicing throwing her dagger at the makeshift target on the wall when they rushed in. The stars were still out, but twilight was coming. She jumped up, half startled. “Well? Is it done?” she demanded.   
  
“Aye, it is. Managed to locate his head too. Jacques was able to get it before some arsehole impaled it on a pike. We buried him in the cemetery by Notre Dame, in a quiet spot in the back corner. Our dear Toussaint can now at least rest in peace,” said Sean.   
  
“Besides, we did the city a favor; one less body they have to process,” Jacques added, wiping the sweat from his brow with his handkerchief.  “You should go bring some pretty flowers soon, _ma petite_. It would brighten up his grave, and you know he loved you so.” He wrung out his handkerchief and tied it back around his neck. Colette nodded in agreement. “Oh, by the way, we found a key in a secret lining of his shirt. Do you recognize it?” Jacques said, pitching the small brass skeleton key to her. She caught it in her left hand and looked it over. There was a strange symbol on it  Colette had not seen before.  
  
“It appears to open some sort of small chest or strongbox. I’ll look around for it when I go clean his house up later.” she replied, slipping the key into her pocket. Toussaint didn’t have any family; he had told them many times. He said the only family he had was “his favorite misfits at the pub next door”. Colette wanted to tend to his things before thieves or city officials got to his house first.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

" _Merde_!" Toussaint's door was locked tight. She cussed again under her breath, realizing she'd left her lockpicks upstairs in her room.  Thinking it to be too risky to go retrieve them, she looked around for an alternative entry. She looked up, finding a ladder leading to the roof. Groaning, she grabbed the folds of her dress and slowly climbed up, hoping no one could see her.   
  
Toussaint’s place has mostly the same setup as their pub: business on the ground floor with living quarters above it, and an attic above that. Even though the ladder put her upstairs, she thought it best to start in the shop and work her way up. Quietly, she crept downstairs like a fog. The sun was peeking through the cracks of boarded up windows. _It will be broad daylight soon, I need to hurry it up_ , Colette thought. By rights, Toussaint’s place belonged to them, but it would take a while before it was legally decreed by the magistrate. “And not before being picked over,” she said to herself, barely audible. She picked a few items off the counters and placed them in her knapsack - a new pair of boots for Sean, a less cheesy hat for Jacques, some groceries, and supplies for the pub.

 

She dashed behind the counter, poking around the floorboards until she found the secret spot, pulling up the false plank. The money box was nestled amongst some documents and a letter addressed to her.  She quickly collected them all in her bag; pausing to read them now would be foolish. That concluded the search downstairs.   
  
The living quarters upstairs weren’t much. Being a bachelor, Toussaint really didn’t worry much about decorating. Besides a bed on the floor and a rudimentary chair, the rest of his living space was turned into warehouse. Barrels, crates, and canvas sacks were occupying most of the loft.  Something moving out of the corner of her eye made Colette gasp, she could have sworn she was not alone in the room.

 

“Don’t be absurd,” she said aloud, trying to encourage herself, “There is no one else up here you silly twit.”  She looked around, trying to think. _If I were Toussaint, where would I keep the secret shit I don’t want anyone to find?_ , she thought, venturing over to his sleeping space. She looked at the brick work and noticed a symbol etched on one of the bricks. It almost looked like an “A” rounded at the bottom with a curved blade-like line under it. “The same symbol from the key!” she exclaimed, taking the key out and comparing the two. Grunting, she mustered her strength and gripped the stone, and after a few minutes, successfully pulled it out. There was something the size of a book hidden in the cobwebs. She carefully retrieved it, blowing dust and remnants of cobweb off. A chest, its lid emblazoned with a matching symbol. “The fuck? What’s this damned symbol mean?”, she said aloud.   
  
That’s when she saw it again, no mistaking it this time. A bright blue blur whizzed by her, almost knocking her to her feet. She started for the box, but was accosted by male voice. “That belongs to me.” The blue hooded figure stepped out of the shadows, hand outstretched.    
  
“And who are you?” demanded Colette, trying to hide the box behind her.  
  
“A friend. You have to trust me. I need that box,” he said motioning to it.  She hesitated. “ _Mademoiselle_ , I don’t want to hurt you, but it is imperative I leave with that box.” He drew his sword, threatening her with the tip. She gulped. The hilt was gold, pure gold with intricate designs etched, and further up was that symbol. This was no ordinary rapier. He was no ordinary man. Sighing, she gave him the box.

“ _Merci_. Now, please don’t try to follow me.”  He turned to leave, but heard her try to approach.

 

Before Colette could even blink, he aimed his gauntleted wrist at her; and a small, crossbow-like apparatus fired a bolt, pinning her to the wall by her cloak. She struggled to free herself and finally did by ripping her cloak loose. She flew down the ladder, hoping to catch up to him. He was long gone. There was no sign of him anywhere.

Colette’s stomach growled loudly. All that work before breakfast had left her starving. Dejected, she slinked back to the pub, locking the door behind her. She still had a few hours before they would open, hopefully enough time for a nice nap.   
  
Her ears pricked, she could hear someone hollering upstairs. She quietly went up to their loft, thinking her uncles were in trouble. It was coming from  a back bedroom, the door shut.  “Oh fuck! Ugh, yes Sean! Harder!” Grunts and moans were followed by things knocking about the wall.    
  


“Oh fuck! I’m going to cum, Jacques! Ugh!” she heard Sean shriek. She buried her face in her hand, embarrassed. She decided it was best to be quiet and wait for them in the common room. She plopped down on the couch, twirling her dagger in her fingers and twitching her left foot. The moans were getting louder and more frequent, until at last she heard them both call out in their ecstasy.

 

“Oh good, they’re done,” she said sarcastically. Sean came out of the room first, with nothing but a bedsheet draped around his waist. He was surprised to see Colette laid out on the sofa. He turned almost as red as his ginger hair, which made Colette laugh.  Jacques wasn’t too far behind, but had managed to put his trousers back on.   
  
“Oh, Colette, good to see you back, my dear!,” laughed Jacques, thankful he was at least half dressed. Colette rolled her eyes at him.

 

“Oh, don’t go rollin’ yer eyes ‘round at us like that, missy.! Jacques and I rarely have time alone, and you know it. Would do ya some good if you got laid once in a while, too. You’re too angry, even for a French-Irish girl,” said Sean while wiping sweat from his forehead with a free corner of the bedsheet. Colette playfully threw her dagger at him, just missing his ear by a fraction of an inch. “See?! We need to find you a boyfriend! It’s been too long.”  

 

“Or a girlfriend!” quipped Jacques. “Who are we to judge?” he said while laughing.  Colette rolled her eyes again. “Seriously though, we apologize, we’ll tie a scarf around the doorknob next time or something.”

  
“You guys are worse than schoolboys”, Colette said with a grin. “But I love ya. You can make it up to me by making breakfast.”  The guys did just that and Colette told them all about her adventure earlier that morning.

 

 

         


	3. You Get What You Pay For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day at the pub, the "Fleur-de-Lyre"

Sean splashed a glass of water on a daydreaming Colette, who couldn't get her mind off the blue stranger. She glared at her uncle through her wet hair. "Wake up, girl, we have customers to tend to." She groaned but took the tray anyway. The pub was busier tonight than it had been previously.

 

Colette shook her head. She didn't  know if some of the neighbors had stayed away because they were respecting the group's time to grieve for Touissant or were ashamed for cheering at his execution. She smiled and greeted them anyhow, putting on all aires and graces that she secretly didn't  want to throat punch some of them.  

 

Something  blue in the corner caught her eye. It was the mysterious interloper from her encounter in Toussaint's quarters. He was sitting by himself, taking in the surroundings.

 

Colette approached a regular customer sitting by a proximal table. "Gaston,   _connaissez-vous l'homme en bleu dans le coin_?"  (Do you know the man in blue in the corner?)

 

Gaston nodded in affirmation. " _Oui, je le connais. Il s'appelle Arno Dorian. Pourquoi?_ " (Yes, I know the man. His name is Arno Dorian. Why?)

 

" _De rien, merci beaucoup. C’est la maison qui paie!_ ,  (It’s nothing, thank you very much. This is on the house!)“ she said, passing him a mug of ale.

 

She bit her lip, working up the nerve and holding back a bit of anger. He had taken something Toussaint had hidden well. She wanted to know why. “Drink, monsieur?” she set a pint of ale down in front of him, staring into his eyes. He was a handsome cuss, she’d give him that. The start of well-kempt facial hair gracefully framed his mouth, the rest of his face graced with handsome features. He looked to be about the same age as her, around twenty-four.  A tuft of brown hair and brown eyes stared back at her from under his blue hood. Colette snapped herself back to reality, trying to focus on her mission.

 

 

 

She leaned down, whispering in his ear, “ You have got major stones to be here! I want to know what you were doing in my friend’s house. What was in that box?” Her eyes narrowed at him. “Don’t think you can elude me this time, bluebird. I deserve to know answers.”  Arno felt a sharp point at the crotch of his pants. He looked under the table to see her holding her dagger slightly pressed into the center of his groin. He chuckled, quite amused she had gotten this far.    
  
“As you wish, _mademoiselle_ , but not down here. Do you have somewhere we can talk privately?” he moved her hand and stood up.   
  
“Aye, upstairs,  five minutes. Don’t try to flee or this time I WILL catch you.” she said coldly while nodding toward the stairs next to the bar. Arno bowed, leaving the table. He stepped quickly to the bar, sitting down at the stool closest to the stairs. Colette finished her rounds and hastily joined him at the bar. “Sean, I’m going upstairs with this gentleman. Cover for me, okay?”

 

Sean eyed them suspiciously. “Alright, dove. But don’t be taking the whole afternoon, then”. He shooed them away with the towel he was using to clean the bar.    
  
Once upstairs, Colette confined Arno to a section she deemed he wouldn’t be able to escape from. “Okay, _Monsieu_ r Dorian. What were you doing  at Toussaint’s?”  she pulled out her dagger and threatened him with it again.   
  
“There’s no need for that,” he motioned her to put the dagger away.  “I actually came to your pub looking for you.” She started to speak out, but he cut her off. “I do not have much time. Toussaint was an informant working for us. He was onto something big - a scandal involving Robespierre himself. But he was found out before we could help him.”  He leaned in closer to her, removing a lock of her auburn hair from her ear, sending a tingle through her body. “You might be in danger,” he whispered. “I can tell you no more here. Just watch yourself. Here take this, find me later.” He put a large coin in her hand and fled out the second story window.    
  
 _What the hell?!_ _This leaves more questions than answers,_ she thought. The coin was larger than most she’d seen. The front had what appeared to be the large, round stained glass window of the Notre Dame in the background. Centered on this was that damned symbol again. She flipped it over. “ _LIBERTÉ  ÈGALITE  UNITY_ " rounded the top. The rest was a short inscription about the Café Théâtre. She quickly dropped it in her pocket when she heard Sean calling from downstairs.

 

The pub was full again. Sean shot her a look as she came downstairs. “Where’s your friend?” he asked, puzzled.

 

“Left out the window.” she said dryly, picking up a tray of drinks. “Welcome to the Fleur-de-Lyre!” she said with faked enthusiasm to some of the guests she had not seen before, making her way around the tables. A burly Englishman grabbed her hand as she walked by. “”Ello, poppet, when do I get a turn with ye?” his voice was gruff. A wry smile pursed Colette’s lips. The wheels in her head started to turn rapidly.    
  
“Oh you want to play, _monsieur_? Follow me!” she lead him past the bar. Sean stopped her.   
  
“Another one?!” Sean squelched quizzically. “Colette, when I said you needed to get laid, I didn’t mean when the bar was open. Fornicate on your free time!” Colette laughed and pulled the Englishman upstairs by his hand. He smirked at Sean as he climbed the stairs to the loft.    
  
“Now stand here, my fine sir. Let me have a look at you,” she eyeballed him against the backdrop of the common room. “Aye, this will do.”   
  
The big man chuckled, his wooly beard seemed to have a life of his own. Secretly, Colette was cursing him in her mind.  He unfastened his pants, pulling his penis out and stroking its shaft. Colette gagged, trying not to vomit.  “Well what are ya waiting for? Suck my cock you daft whore!”     
  
“ _Oui, monsieur_. Are you ready for this?” she got down on her knees and crept closer. _For such a big man, he certainly has a small dick!_ ,she snickered to herself, amused. He closed his eyes in anticipation. Colette used this opportunity to jam her dagger into the top of his kneecap.   
  
“AGGH!! AHHH!” he staggered, falling back. He tried to grab the curtains to balance himself, but it was to no avail. He fell backwards out the window and landed with a sickening plop. More screams, but this time, it was because of terror and not of pain.

 

Colette strode victoriously downstairs, smiling and pleased with herself. “Don’t tell me this one exited through the window too.” queried Sean.

 

“Yep,” Colette said stiffly. “Only this one fell into the death cart hauling headless bodies from the square.”

  
“What happened, girl?!” he asked, half-sorry for the poor bastard.   
  
“He thought I would suck him off, so I stabbed him in the knee.” she shrugged.  Sean buried his face into his hand. This girl would surely be the cause of the Fleur-de-Lyre shutting down. A man entering the pub caught her eye. He was tall with auburn hair  and blue eyes. Gingered scruff accumulated around his jawline, a newsboy cap on his head.  He smiled as she walked passed him, showing some teeth. Colette suddenly felt weak in the knees. She was so fixated on this handsome stranger that she smacked right into the wall.  

  
Sean jogged over to her. The man was already helping her up. Sean smiled. “Fassbender! Michael Fassbender. I’ll be damned! What are you doing in Paris?”


	4. Le Sang de Ma Famille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn a little about Colette's mother. Colette seeks out Arno.

Colette stared across the blue-eyed stranger from across the table in their small dining room, which was just a small,plain wooden square table with four chairs set apart from the rest of the kitchen.  Sean and Michael had been catching up while Sean prepared dinner. Jacques came up the stairs, finally back from his business with the magistrate’s office.

 

“ _Bonsoir, mon cher_ , “ he said, kissing Sean on the cheek. “I am so glad to finally be home.”    
  
“How did it go?” questioned Sean and Colette simultaneously.  Jacques glanced warily at their dinner guest.   
  
“I will tell you later, I do not want to bother our guest with such mundane affairs,” he said, retiring into the washroom to clean up.    
  
“Tis a fine place you got here, Sean. You always talked about opening your own pub in Cork. I see Paris is treating you better, eh?” Michael nodded toward the washroom at Jacques.   
  
“Paris has been very good to me, mate, except for this brat you see before you, “ he laughed, patting Colette on the shoulder.   
  
Michael took a sip from his mug. “Even if she’s a pain in the arse, you got your own prostitute to bring in more money. Tell me Sean, what’s her cut? Room and board? Or does she stay somewhere else and comes on shift here?”.  Sean could feel the heat radiating from Colette’s face; he tried to grab her, but she had already sprang to her heels.

 

“Godammit! I am NOT a courtesan!! Why does everyone think that??!!” she exclaims, flinging a mug across the room, barely missing him. Sean stepped quietly behind her to the kitchen.

 

“It’s the cut of  your dress, dove. Fitted, and not all frou-frou,” Sean said nonchalantly, bringing food to the table from the kitchen. Colette frowned. She saw nothing wrong her attire  “That and the fact you seem to have developed this odd habit of bringing strange men up to your room.”   

 

Colette shot him a piercing glare. “Well, the man in blue was the guy I saw in Toussaint’s a few days ago. I had to know what the hell he was doing there. The other guy I had to teach a lesson,” she said, crossing her arms and scowling.  “As for you, _Monsieur_ Fassbender, I’ll have you know that I own a third of this bar.”

 

“ _Oui, C’est vrais_ , (Yes it’s true)”  affirmed Jacques as he joined them. “Colette’s mother willed her part of the pub to Colette when she died. Colette could have elected to sell it to us and leave Paris, but she chose to stay.”    
  
“Where would I have gone? I know no other other life besides with my uncles, with mama gone”, said Colette. For moment, Michael could swear he saw her soften up a bit. He could see tears start to well up in her eyes.  

  
“Wait, Rosalie is dead? What happened?” Michael questioned gently.   
  
Sean crossed his arms, looking down and shutting his eyes, forlornly reminiscing. “It was seven years ago this autumn. Rosalie had taken Colette shopping, and it was getting late. A group of five men followed them for a few blocks. Rosalie caught sight of them and urged Colette on. One of them fired a shot and hit Rosalie in the back of the knee. She fell, Colette tried to help her, pleading for her to get up. Rosalie ordered Colette to run and don't look back. And she did, she ran screaming all the way to us, here at the pub.” he swallowed hard, his voice was breaking.    
  


Jacques took over recounting the tale. “By the time we got to my sister, it was far too late,” he sighed heavily. “Her body lay on the cobblestone, but” he held up a finger, “she managed to kill two of the _connards_. Her dagger was still plunged into one man’s heart.”  

 

Colette lightly touched the pommel of her dagger with the tip of her fingers. She remembered removing it from the assailant’s chest. She’d been running her fingers through Rosalie’s beautiful chestnut hair, sobbing on her neck “Please come back, mama, please,”. It had been Sean who lifted her away from Rosalie’s body. She remembered his arms were strong, but trembling. She also knew it was loss not weakness that made them tremble so.  It was when they were trying to move the body that she saw the dire wound in Rosalie’s abdomen. It had sent her into a frenzy, she kicked and punched the two corpses Rosalie had successfully defended herself against until she fell dizzily onto the ground. Looking up from her seat, she saw the dagger. She pulled it out with a grunt, wiping it clean with the hem of her dress. Sean and Jacques nodded for her to keep it; in this way, Rosalie would always protect her daughter.  

 

Colette’s cheeks flushed red. She remembered all the rage welled up in her, a seventeen year old girl then. She remembered the rage, but she also remembered the loss. Most of all, she remembered Rosalie’s love, and she missed her mother very much.  Remembering hurt, and it showed on Colette’s face as tears streamed down her reddened cheeks as she clasped her locket in her hand over heart.

 

Michael broke the painful silence, “Robbery was it, or---?”

 

“No, that’s the odd thing. Rosalie wasn’t missing any money or anything. The dagger could’ve even fetched a fair price, but they left it in their friend’s carcass.” Sean explained.  “Not robbery, not rape, it’s a mystery why they were targeted. Of course, there are no leads.”  
  
“I’ll be back later,” said Colette, fidgeting. “I need some fresh air.”      
  
“Be careful _ma petite_! Please don’t stay gone too long,” Jacques entreated. Colette nodded in agreement. She grabbed her cloak and left them. She may never get answers concerning her mother’s death, but perhaps Touissiant’s was a different matter. She hurried to the _Café Théâtre_ to see Arno.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Café Theatre was southeast of the Hôtel de Ville in the Ile de la Cité district, east of the main island and seated on the most western point of the Île de Saint-Louis. Colette ran all the way across the Pont Rouge, the bridge connecting the two.

Panting, she approached the doors and ventured in a few paces. An older, big breasted lady with dark hair donning a hat with enormous feathers intercepted her.

 

                                                         

  
“I’m sorry, _mademoiselle_ , but we are closing. Come back tomorrow for Beaumarchais's new masterpiece,” she said, trying to shoo Colette out the door.   
  
“Actually I’m supposed to be meeting a _Monsieur_ Arno Victor Dorian here. He said to come any time.”

 

“Oh he did, did he?” she said dryly, still motioning Colette out.

 

" _Madame_ Gouze, don’t bother this lady, she is a guest of mine,” said Arno, sauntering out of a side wing and leaning on a rail.   
  
“ _Je suis désolée, Monsieur_ Dorian,” she replied, retiring to a booth on the the opposite side of the room.  

 

Arno motioned for her to follow him. He led her up a grand staircase , around the corner, and through a room on the right in a small corridor. Looking around at all the trinkets and papers, and odds and ends, she gathered this was his private chambers. One side had a balcony over looking the front of the theatre and the waterfront below it. The other opened into a small, but ornate courtyard shared by the adjoining wing of the manor.

 

He motioned her to a small table with two plush chairs and bade her to sit down. “You’ll have to excuse _Madame_ , she’s a bit protective after hours but a very good manager,” he explained, pouring tea into two small teacups.

 

"Well, I'm here. What was it you couldn't tell me at my friend's place?"she demanded, taking a sip of her tea. Arno's eyes darkened, his jaw tightened. At first, this frightened Colette. She studied his face and saw he was not directing this stern emotion at her. His briskly took another sip of tea.

 

"It has somewhat to do with your mother," he exhaled with a sigh. Colette felt a lump in her throat, one that not had surfaced in years. She swallowed hard, wanting to protest but not wanting to interrupt. Arno saw her bite her lip and continued. "Yes, I know what happened to Rosalie. I know about you, Colette Fletcher. I knew Toussaint for years, like you. He was one of our most trusted informants, so was Rosalie. I didn't know her, you understand. I had yet to join, but that's what the Brotherhood maintains."

 

"Join? Brotherhood?, she muttered, her mind racing. The symbol! It all made sense now. "Assassins!" She squeaked out. "Toussaint, my mother, working for the Assassins!? Bloody feckin' hell!"

 

Arno nodded in affirmation. He paused briefly, letting Colette getting over the shock. "Colette, the men who followed you and your mother that day, do you remember anything about them? Any symbols you saw on them?"

 

Colette went back in her mind to that day. She went back to the moment of wrenching the dagger from the dead man's chest. What did she see? "A weird red cross," she said, remembering. _Templars_.

 

"Templars," hissed Arno through his teeth. "They got your mother, and they got Toussaint after they caught his trail again while he was doing some digging. Now, they might be after you.”    
  
“After me? Why? And what did Toussaint find?” Colette indignantly demanded.  
  
“He found something tying Robespierre to the Templars. And they might be after you if they link you to him, especially if they find out you’re Rosalie’s daughter.”

He glanced up at the clock. “ _Mon Dieu_! It’s late! You need to get back to your uncles; they will be worried. Please just be wary of your surroundings for now. I don’t think they’ve discovered you yet., and I will send you word on anything I’ve found out.  I’ll have my driver bring you home.It’s not safe for you to walk through Paris alone at night.” He escorted her downstairs to an awaiting carriage outside.  

 

“ _Merci, Monsieur_ Dorian, for everything,” she said, stepping into the carriage.

 

“Please, call me Arno. And Colette - be careful.” he waved her off.   
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It was very dark in their home, even by the light of the candle Colette gingerly carried with her. She tried to balance the conversation with Arno with trying not to trip on anything in the dimness. Sean and Jacques were fast asleep; she could hear both of them snoring loudly through their bedroom door. In the far corner, a light was faintly shining from the washroom.  

 

Curiously, she crept closer, uncertain who else was in her home, dagger clutched tightly. She rounded the other side of the privacy separator to find Michael drying off.    
  
“ _Putain de merde!_ (Hot damn!)” she muttered. Michael must’ve heard her, he turned around to face her with tired, dreamy eyes.

 

  
“Hello, love! Like what you see?” he grinned, his teeth reflecting the light.


	5. The Words Written in Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colette visits the cemetery and adds more pieces to the puzzle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A really big MERCI BEAUCOUP to [Morriggann ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Morriggann) who has been an immense help with a lot of the French phrases

 Colette stared at the stone headstone, clutching Toussaint’s last letter in her fist. Dawn had only just begun breaking, not a cloud in the sky. Colette yawned and rubbed the lingering sleepiness from her eyes. She blinked again at the words roughly etched in stone. **Toussaint Gustave Castan**.

“Oh Toussaint, what did you and _maman_ (mama) get me into?” she softly implored. She had read his final words to her many times, but it never made sense, just a very generic goodbye. She couldn't help but think there should have been more to it, especially given what she was now aware of.

 Sighing, she bent down to leave the forget-me-nots she brought him. "I miss you, my dear Toussaint. _Repose en paix_.(Rest in peace)," she said, lightly tracing her fingers over the top of his gravestone. She smiled, recalling a few fond memories. Truly, he had been a grandfather to her.

 It was time to visit her mother's grave next, and Colette found the forlorn angel statue standing atop the marker reading **Rosalie Cantrelle Corbin-Fletcher** by the old oak tree like she always had, only this time she came alone. Rosalie had died a couple years before the storming of the Bastille, and Colette was grateful her mother was not around to see her beloved Paris turn red.

"Oh, _maman_! Things are so screwed up!” she said, placing some red roses. “And I feel as if they are going to get much worse. Templars? Assassins? How deep in their world were you?" She stared at the angel for an answer, but the stone eyes did not blink, the stone mouth gave no reply. She studied the angel a little more, noticing something she hadn't before.

 An Assassins symbol was etched in the hem of its gown. Curiously, she rubbed it with the tip of her fingers and gasped when it depressed. She heard a low rumbling and a sliding of stone coming from the base.

 Bending down, she discovered a small enclave housing several stacks of papers. Some of them bound with cord. "What now? Should I show these to Arno?" she mumbled.

 "Who's Arno, your boyfriend?" Michael grabbed her shoulder, startling her. She jumped, hiding the papers in her knapsack. She turned around to face him, her cheeks flushed with a hint of anger.

 "If you MUST know, Arno is a friend of mine, looking into some things concerning my mother. I don't have a boyfriend, nor fiancé, nor husband," she replied, crossing her arms.

 "Have you ever even been with a man, Colette?"he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her and grinning. Colette scoffed.

"First you think I'm a whore, now you're asking me if I'm a virgin?! Really, Michael, make up your mind! Why are you even here? Spying on me?"

 He cleared his throat, "Your uncles requested I retrieve you for breakfast. And 'Michael?' You're not calling me 'Monsieur Fassbender' anymore?"he mused.

 "Well, after I walked in on you in all your glory, I think we are far past formalities," her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

 "I were only foolin', lass. Lighten up, will ya?” he chuckled. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

After breakfast, Colette hurried to her room and locked the door behind her. She grabbed the letters she’d found in the hidden spot at her mother’s grave and sorted through them on her little desk. There were ledgers, the deed to Toussaint’s place, and various receipts and invoices. “Boring!” Colette muttered, setting them aside. There was a stack bound by a rough leather cord with the Assassin’s seal holding the binding. “I’ll let Arno sort through these,” she said, setting them aside next to the other stack. A letter caught her eye, it was in Toussaint’s handwriting.

 

**“ _Ma Petite_ ,**

  
**If you are reading this, they have finally found me, and I am gone. While I wish I could have more time with you, please don’t cry for me. I had a long and interesting life. I did many things, some in the service of the Assassins. You, no doubt, have ran into Arno by now, and have been privy to some less desirable knowledge concerning myself and your mother. I beg of you, don’t be angry. We did what we deemed to be the right thing.**

**Time is short, so I will be brief. Auguste Galais. He is the man responsible for your mother’s death. He was the leader and one of the men sent after her. Now, he is responsible for mine too. Be careful, he may turn his gaze to you. Arno will help you in any way he can. Please send what I hid in your mother’s grave marker to him, sans your two letters. Remember what I've taught you.**

**I am so proud of you,**

**Toussaint”**

A tear trickled down Colette’s cheek. She brushed it away, carefully folding the letter and putting it in a small desk drawer. Another letter left her breathless; it was from her mother. 

  
**“ _Ma Belle_ ,**

**I look at you always in wonder and in pride. You are forever learning, so curious about the world. Now you’re a vibrant young woman with your father’s vivacity. He would be so proud of you! It saddens me to think I may soon have to leave you. Some bad men are after me, _ma caille_ , and I think they have found me.**

**I am sorry if I do leave you. My only consolation is that I will be with your father again, and we will look down, watching you. I can die in peace knowing Toussaint and your uncles will be there for you. Our little family may not be conventional, but the love is strong. That is what matters most in life. Don’t forget to love strongly.**

**I will always be with you. _Je t’aime de tout mon coeur_.  **

**Maman”**

  
  
Miniature rivers flowed from Colette’s eyes. She missed her mother, but didn't realize just how much until now. And her father. Suddenly, she was a tiny little girl again running after him through the fields back in Ireland. He’d turn around smiling, bending down to pick her up and spin her. Sniffling, she tried to dry her tears, trying to focus. She penned a short letter to Arno. 

 

**“Arno,**

**I think I may have stumbled upon something you need to see. I was instructed to send this to you in a letter by T. And a favor, please? Find out what you can about a Monsieur Auguste Galais. Send word and I will come to you once you’re ready..**

**_Merci beaucoup_ , **

  
**\--C**

 

She gathered all the paper stacks, including the ones she deemed boring, and tied them together, putting her letter to Arno on top. She wrapped this in a linen cloth and bound it together with a scrap of twine, tripling the knot and burning the frayed ends. A courier would bring it to the Café Théâtre later.

 She stood outside the back door, watching Jasper hurry away with the package for Arno safely enclosed in his knapsack. She smiled. He was just a teen-aged boy, but he could outrun an entire company of guards. Plus, he seemed to have a little crush on Colette, as he was always so eager to help her with anything she’d ask. She knew she could trust him. Arno would have her correspondence within an hour perhaps.

 

“Are you alright, love?” Michael joined her. “I heard you sobbing in your room earlier. Bad news, was it?”

 “Yes, er no. I really don’t know.” She stared up at him. His blue eyes seemed to darken with concern. Those eyes, Wow! She couldn't look away.

 He put an arm around her, pulling her near. He was surprised when she didn't fight him off, but he thought it was a nice change of pace. “What do ya mean, you don’t know?”

 “It’s nothing, Michael. Don’t worry about it.” She pulled away, starting to walk off. He grabbed her arm.

 “Colette, I dunno what I did to ya, but I wish you’d tell me so I can make it right.”

 “You’ve done me no harm, not really. I just -- hold a lot of things in. I feel like I shouldn't bother people, ya know?” she slid down, sitting against the wall. Michael sat by her.

 “Won’t you let your walls down, love? Just a smidge? I’m not a total stranger. I knew your father.” Colette’s eyes widened.

 “You knew my father? How?” she looked up again into his blue eyes, magnetized. Don’t do that, she silently warned herself.

 “I was just a wee lad, but Liam grew up in the same village I did. He was much older than I, though. He and Sean were best mates, they were. And I usually tagged along whenever I could. Even after they grew up and left, we’d write back and forth. One day, Liam comes back with this beautiful woman at his side. He’d been to Paris, met this lady, and married her. That was Rosalie.”  Colette was leaning forward, listening. “He brought her back to Ireland and started a farm. Think I was about ten then,” he added, trying to remember correctly.

 Colette smiled. She loved hearing her mother talk about “that handsome Irish devil who whisked her away from her beloved France”.

“I love it when you smile, your whole body glows, love.” Michael beamed back at her, flashing a toothy grin, making Colette weak in the knees. He continued recounting, “I remember the day Liam died as well.” They both swallowed hard. His death had not been a peaceful one. “Colette, I’m the one who found him there in the barn. What a bloody sight that was. I remember your mother screaming when she came to see for herself. They say it was an animal or something, but I don’t know. That’s what they ruled it as, at least. We dug Liam’s grave for your mother, Sean and I did. I’m guessing Sean wanted to protect you and Rosalie , so he moved with you to Paris when your mom decided to sell the farm.”

“Aye, that he did. Sold his own  farm and everything. I don’t think he had family to really speak of. He just sort of stepped up after Papa died. He may not be related by blood, but he’s my uncle just the same. After we settled in Paris, Jacques got word and came to live with us.  Sean and him hit it off right at the start. The rest is, how you say, history.” she regaled what she remembered of her five year old self.

 “I think it’s wonderful how you all stick together. But I bet you give your uncles a run for their money,” he chuckled.

 “Well, I am the offspring of Liam and Rosalie, after all,” she teased, sticking her tongue out at him. Laughing, her eyes met his. Colette started shaking as she felt him pull her closer. Leaning down, he lightly kissed her lips, making Colette gasp.

 “Michael!” she protested, flustered.  _Fuck what am I getting into?_ _But I like it! do it again!_  she thought.

 “I’m sorry, love, I don’t know wha---” he tried to apologize, but Colette aggressively silenced him, pulling his head down to hers again, kissing him intimately.

 


	6. When It Rains, It Pours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colette is bewitched by Michael, what else can I say?

“Sean, _regardez!_ (look!)” Jacques whispered as pointed around the corner at Colette and Michael still sitting in each other's embrace, kissing.

"I'll be damned! It's about time!" Sean beamed. "Go, Colette, go!"

"Shh, you'll disturb them, _mon chere_!" Jacques laughed.

A few minutes later, Michael and Colette ran upstairs, giggling and horse-playing the whole way up. Jacques and Sean grinned at them from the kitchen. Colette passed them a questioning glance, and they feigned busying themselves cooking dinner. Sean even started whistling.

At the table, Colette found herself staring at Michael quite often, who returned her gaze with a smile. Sean and Jacques couldn’t help but giggle when they’d catch the two. They acted like two schoolgirls with a secret being kept from present company, then reverting back to an awkward silence when Colette would shoot one of them an angry glare.

After dinner, Colette needed some fresh air and decided to take a stroll by the Seine River. She tugged at Michael's arm, wanting him to go with her.

They spent the evening, walking through the Paris streets and along the Seine. It was the first time in a long time Colette could enjoy the scenery, she had forgotten that, even through this bloody revolution, Paris was still beautiful. _LaTerreur_ (the Terror) could not alter the enchantment of her present company. Coming back from _Ile de la Cité_ , they  stopped to take in the view from the _Pont Au Change_. Although the bridge was busy with goldsmiths and moneychangers, Colette felt like they were the only ones on it.  The sky was heavy with rainclouds, making Colette wish she could have shown Michael around on a sunny day.

“Sorry about the weather,” she said nodding toward the sky. She looked down at the small boats gliding along the Seine.  

“Don’t worry about it, love! I’ve had a grand time with ya. Besides, I won’t melt.” he grinned again.  “Really it’s okay!” he cradled one side of her face with his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. She let out a half-smile. “C’mon lass, cheer up!” he grabbed her waist, lifting her up and spinning her before setting her on the side railing of the bridge. He looked into her brown eyes. “Wow! Your eyes are almost golden in the light!” he remarked, his own blue eyes dazzling.  What was this magic?

Colette laughed. “My uncles say my eyes are brown because I’m full of shit.”

 

“Always listen to your uncles, do ya?” he chuckled, putting his arms around her.

 

“Hardly ever, actually,” she answered, looking again into his eyes. She felt like she would turn to goo and flow down the bridge and join the flow of the Seine.

“That’s my girl!” He bent forward, and finding her mouth, kissing her deeply while caressing her shoulders with one hand. Colette’s heart thumped loudly, but she could hear his beating too.

 **  
**  
It was far past closing time by the time they got back to the pub, and it was raining.  They shook in their wet clothes.“What’s this, then?” Michael said pointing to the door handle. **  
**

“A scarf, _Merde_! Sean and Jacques are having ‘alone time’. C’mon we’ll hang out downstairs for a while.”  Untying the scarf, she unlocked the door, locking it again behind them after they were inside. They both hung their coats up on the rack and took off their wet boots, placing them next to the door.

“Drink?” she offered. Michael nodding, smiling and sitting down at the bar. His eyes twinkled when he smiled, and Colette could no longer resist him. Flashes of their day at the river, the way he kissed her on the bridge sent shivers down her spine.

 

“Michael, I want you to take me right here,’ she said, patting a hand on the bartop. _He is tall enough for it to work_ , she thought.

“On the bar, love? Shouldn’t we go upstairs?”

“No, I don’t want to disturb them.” She pushed herself up to sit on the bar top. Batting her eyes at him, she loosened her bodice, exposing her pale breasts to the lantern light.  Her rosy nipples were already erect, her whole body was trembling.

“Are you sure you want this? We can wait,” he offered.

“No, I want you to fuck me right here, Michael.” she demanded in a voice heavy with desire. Michael sucked in a breath, bending down to take a nipple in his mouth, groping the other one with his hand. Colette moaned, closing her eyes and leaning back. He helped her out of the confines of her dress and undergarments, dropping the tailored prisons to the floor.

“Oh my, you are beautiful!” he mused, cocking his head to the side and admiring her nude body.  He removed his shirt, Colette tugged it off him, allowing it to fall down. His belt came next, he ripped it off with one smooth jerk; it joined the others on the floor. His pants and knickers followed, Colette thought Michael’s bulge could just about rip them off on its own. Michael smiled and bit his bottom lip, deliberately tugging on the waistband slowly. Colette couldn’t take it any more, she unfastened them. Michael took over, jerking them down and adding to them pile. His erection sprang forward. Colette’s eyes widened, awed at his size.

“What is it, love?”

“It’s just been a while, and you’re -- “ she motioned toward his cock. He laughed.

“I think I could help with that. How long has it been?”

“Too long!” she said huskily. He bent down, kissing her deeply, then breathing in her ear, traced his lips down her neck, stopping to suckle on her breasts some more. Colette’s breathing quickened, her body shook violently with pleasure.

Michael grinned. “Now let’s see if I can’t help you with your little problem?” he said, dancing his fingers over her hip and in between her thighs, finding her wet.  “You are already gushing, love!” he quipped, pumping two of his fingers into her, making her moan. She lurched back and gripped the edge of the bar tightly, closing her eyes again, breath hitching. Michael spread his fingers slightly apart inside her, trying to spread her walls a bit so she’d be better able to endure his shaft. She gasped at the advent of a bit of pain, but relished it. He massaged her this way and stroked her clit, making Colette’s eyes roll backwards. He could tell it wouldn't be long.

“Not yet love. Party’s not fully started yet, don’t try to end it so soon.” he said, positioning himself in front of her. He insert himself a little at a time, allowing her to get used to his girth. He let out a low growl as she gasped and groaned at the onset of this sensation.

"Shh shh. That's it love, take it all, slowly. Steady now," he soothed until he was fully  buried inside her. With one hand playing in her hair and the other steadying her, he began thrusting, slowly at first. She closed her walls around him, finding it delicious how well he filled her. Colette hooked her legs around his waist, bucking her hips urging him faster, to which he happily obliged. Thrust after thrust, she felt her climax building. A few more thrusts sent her over the edge.

 

She orgasmed, her body convulsing erratically and violently erupting with her hot juices. She tried to scream in ecstasy, but Michael placed his hand over her mouth, muffling her sounds.

" Shh, remember don't want to disturb your uncles now, do we, love?"he grinned. Michael gyrated his hips, power-thrusting his way to his own release, jettisoning inside her with a grunt.

He withdrew, panting. Colette leaned forward,kissing him. "That was amazing! Ugh, but we might want to get dressed and cleaned up incase they decide to come down for a pint. You go ahead and get washed up upstairs. I will take care of things down here." she ordered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, a sleepy Colette slowly waddled down the stairs. She was still sore from her romp with Michael but tried to hide it, although her gait betrayed her. She found Jacques at the bar and immediately lost herself in a heap of giggles. Jacques was leaning over that spot.

“What is so damned funny, ma petite?” Jacques queried.  

“ _De Rien_! (Nothing!)” but it was all Colette could do to stifle another giggle.

"Oh! And, Colette I can't find the bar towel that was here last night. Have you seen it?"

"Yes! It's in the dirty laundry, I had to mop up a big mess last night, Uncle!" She laughed again, but too deep this time. It made her wince in pain.

Jacques eyed her suspiciously, "You're so cocky today! What has gotten into you, girl?"

 

"Yes! You could say that!" Colette doubled over, hysterical, but again pained, making her draw a deep breath. Jacques shook his head, he didn’t get the joke. His niece had finally gone crazy, and he blamed it on her father's genes.

Sean descended the steps, wondering why everyone was downstairs so early. “What the bloody hell is going on down here?”

“Your niece has lost her mind!” Jacques, said turning to him, throwing his hands up.

“So she’s only my niece when she’s crazy, then?” Sean mused.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her! She’s been barely able to do anything other than laugh.”

“Oh I do believe I know exactly what has gotten into our Colette. Actually more like who,” Sean voiced, bending over to pick up an object off the floor and holding it up. “This isn’t mine, Jacques, and I know it’s not yours. So that means --” It was Michael’s belt.

“Merde!” uttered Colette.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I took your advice and finally got laid?” she questioned, grinning.

“And?” pressed Sean.

“And he was a good a lay?” she answered, shrugging her shoulders.  Sean shook his head in disbelief. Perhaps it was her mother’s genes.  

“And what else, Colette?” demanded Jacques.

“And I’m seeing him again?”

“ _Est-il ton petit ami_ (Is he your boyfriend)?” asked Jacques.

“ _Mais oui (Yes!)_!” Colette responded, eyes lit up with the revelation.  Jacques looked at the belt and thought about their conversation a few minutes earlier. 

He looked into Sean’s eyes as another revelation struck both her uncles at the same time.

 

“YOU FUCKED HIM ON OUR BAR, COLETTE??!!!” they both exclaimed simultaneously.

 

“Hey I own a third of it,” she said coolly, “It can be that third”, she added, crossing her arms.


	7. There's a Storm Brewin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colette gives Michael a tour of the Place de la Revolution. Arno has more information for them.

 

“This place looks so eerie at night,” Michael noted. The stands were empty, the guards were no where to be seen, and all of the usual spectators had gone home hours ago.  

 

“It’s not exactly a cheery place in broad daylight either. This is Grand Center Stage for execution, much bigger than the square by the Fleur-de-Lyre. ” The two walked along the perimeter of the Place de la Revolution, Colette pointing out things and explaining the history to Michael.  The guillotine’s blade gleamed in the moonlight.  With a grin, Colette walked over to the platform, motioning Michael to follow. The boards were thick with congealing blood. The smell of death still loomed in the air around them. “Can you believe that under this very blade both commoner and king met their end?”  
  
“So this is where old Louis was done in, then?” he asked, eyes fixed on the angled device.

 

“Yes, January of last year. Antoinette followed him this past October. I was there both times. It was ghastly. Now I fear we have simply traded one tyrant for another” she said, stepping forward, kneeling then laying prone on the bench.

 

“Colette, what you doing?” demanded Michael nervously. She turned her head to grin at him, then pushed herself up and under the blade with her feet.  “Colette stop fucking around! Get out of there now!”  Ignoring him, she looked down into the basket.  It had been emptied, no heads were there but a  thick layer of congealed blood had seeped into the  splintered boards. She crinkled her nose. The heads may have been removed, but the smell hadn’t. She could still hear Michael yelling at her, but for some reason she lay there mesmerized, surveying everything from her macabre point of view.  
  
A pair of eyes peered at her from the other side of the top of the basket. Colette gasped, rolling from under the blade and back to her feet.  Arno chuckled and pulled himself to meet her on the top of the platform.

 

“You know, Colette, most people don’t willingly saunter up this platform and slide themselves under the Razor without being forced.” he said, crossing his arms.

 

“Most people don’t slide off the board with their heads still attached either,” she quipped, sticking her tongue out at her hooded friend. “What are you doing here?” she added, dusting herself off.

 

“To tell you things are ready. Come to the Café Théâtre as soon as you are able.” He glanced at Michael. “Come alone,” he added, tightening his jaw. Michael stared back at him, sneering.

 

“Oh, where are my manners? Michael this is Arno. Arno this is my boyfriend, Michael,” she made introductions trying to ease the tension she could feel mounting.

 

“Whatever you have to tell Colette, you can tell me as well.” Michael asserted, stepping between her and Arno.

 

“Fine. Just come tomorrow morning,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “9 a.m. sharp!”he instructed, jumping down and bounding away before disappearing in the city.

 

“That guy is a complete arse. You say he’s helping you?” Michael asked, wrapping her arms around Colette’s waist and cradling her from behind.

 

“Yes, he is. I know he comes off a bit pompous, but he’s been a great help. He knew Toussaint, too. I just wish I kn-” Michael turned her head to him silencing her with a kiss.

 

“I’ve heard enough ‘bout this Arno fella. If you trust him, I’ll try to tolerate him,” he said breaking the kiss. “We should get back to your place. 9 a.m. will come too early.” She nodded in agreement. They walked briskly back to the pub, the stars above shining, lighting their way.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
“You’re sure your uncles are okay with me bunking here tonight with ya?” Michael asked as Colette got ready for bed.

 

“You wouldn’t still be here if they weren’t,” she interjected, untying her long auburn hair, letting it  fall loose to her shoulders.

 

“Just making sure, love. I thought they were still pretty pissed about the other night on the bar.”

 

“Oh, please. Like they haven’t done worse? I remember my mother going off on them plenty of times. They try to act like they’re still pissed, but really they have no grounds. I do own a third of this place.”

 

“I don’t think Jacques was acting, the point of his rapier felt pretty sharp against my  throat. And Sean? Mean right hook on that one.”

 

Colette laughed, “ Mon chere, really. They like you. They were just trying to scare you, is all. They’re really protective over me; and if they didn’t like you, Jacques would make you bleed. He’s a master duelist, and Sean was a champion boxer back in Ireland.”

 

“Oh, really? Should I run?” he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her body.

 

“Only if you break my heart,” she remarked, bringing his hand over her heart.

  
“I have no intention of ever doing that, love,” he whispered, gently nibbling at the bare nape of her neck.

 

Colette giggled, “Good. Otherwise you might wake up missing a few body parts.” She pointed to her dagger lying on the small bedside table. Michael gulped, freezing in his tracks. He was snapped back to reality by Colette.

 

“Are you going to play sentinel all night, or are you coming to bed?” she laughed, sliding between the sheets. He grinned, diving in after her with a playful growl. She squealed, trying to move over, but he scooped her up in his arms with his chest pressed against her back.

 

“Do you always sleep naked?” he teased, rubbing a breast. She could feel him getting hard, poking her in the ass.

 

“Sometimes. We should really get some sleep,” she asserted, but it was no use. He pressed hard against her, kissing her shoulders and neck. He moved up to lightly graze her neck while snaking his hand down her body, and sinking a finger inside while rubbing her clit with his thumb. The sensation thrilled her, making her suck in a breath. “Michael stop!” she exhaled sharply.

 

“Okay, love!” He grinned, rolling over and pretending to be asleep. She frowned, she didn’t mean for him to stop completely. He had his back to her; she used this for to her advantage, sliding up next him like he had been to her previously. “What are you doing, then?”he queried, but she said nothing.  Smirking in the darkness, she  lightly raked her teeth against his back,tickling him. He let out a loud moan when she reached around to circle his cock with her top hand, the other one supporting her. She kept working his shaft, and he bucked back.  

 

“Enough,” he growled, rolling over on his back as she sat up. “Ride me Colette. I want you to,” he demanded in a husky voice. She went to straddle him facing his feet, but he stopped her. “No love, I want to see your face. And those gorgeous tits of yours,” he licked his lips.  She turned around to face him, then eased down on his cock, closing her eyes and exhaling. “No, look at me, love, open your eyes.

 

She acquiesced, coming alive in both hips and eyes as she began to ride him. One of his hands steadied her at the hip, the other pawed at her breast, caressing it. She hissed when he moved up and suckled her nipple, making her ride faster.

His lips moved from her nipple to her lips, kissing her deeply, his tongue dueling hers. Relinquishing, he moved them both back where he leaned against the headboard, turning his attention again to her neck. He slipped two fingers between them, finding her wet folds again. She was tensing, grinding her hips violently against him. He knew it wouldn’t be much longer for both of them as her walls were squeezing tighter and tighter. She was milking him.

She threw her head back as she found her climax. He cupped her cheek. “No, love, look into my eyes as you cum. That’s right. Good girl.”  He bucked his hips, finding his own release, erupting inside her.  Exhausted, she lay down next to him and settled against his chest. He put her arm around her. “Jaysus, love! You were amazing!”he whispered, stroking his fingers through her hair as they both drifted off to sleep.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Arno paced his room, grimacing. He looked at the clock and frowned. It was already half past nine in the morning, and Colette was no where to be seen. He slumped down in his chair, tapping his foot in agitation. He was debating going back to look for them at the Fleur-de-Lyre when the couple came running in.

 

 _“Mademoiselle_ Colette Fletcher and _Monsieur_ Michael Fassbender to see you, _Monsieur_ Dorian,” announced a female servant behind them.

 

“Finally!” he said, standing up to greet his guests. “What took you so long?!!”

 

“Woke up late,” answered Colette, shrugging, “I am truly sorry Arno, but it was a rough night,” she winked at Michael.  “Now what have you found? Anything on Galais?”

 

Arno motioned them a large table in the back of the room where various papers and maps were laid out. Colette recognized a few of them as the ones she had sent to him via Jasper.

 

“Colette, you sent me a veritable treasure trove of information. I have receipts and invoices, correspondence, and plans that paint a solid, scheming paper trail tying Robespierre to some shady dealings with the Templars. The National Assembly will be livid. We now have enough evidence that cannot be refuted nor bought off. Robespierre will be arrested. We just have to plan on the execution of such matters. This bloody revolution can finally be at an end. I cannot thank you enough!”

 

“That’s wonderful! I am happy Paris might be on the verge of healing soon. My mother would be relieved. Now, what of Galais?”

 

“Galais is dangerous man, Colette. He is the right hand of the Master Templar here in Paris and _Capitaine Général_  (Captain General)of the guards,” he explained, showing her a portrait of the man. He was a dark and brooding man. Colette thought the paint used must’ve been mixed with pure villainy, the paintbrush infused with evil. His visage said “cold and calculating.”

 

“Colette he’s already caught your uncles’ scent. It won’t be long before he connects the dots.” he showed her a letter calling out the Fleur-de-Lyre as a target, naming Jacques Corbin and Sean Finnegan as person as interests. It did not name her.

 

“My uncles? Why is he interested in them?” she asked, shocked.

 

“He connected Jacques to his sister, Rosalie, your mother. He was after something she had, but I don’t know what. He found Sean out through some Irish contacts who knew Liam.”

 

Colette squinted her eyes, trying to understand. “What? What does my father have to do with anything?”

 

Arno stared hard at her, his jaw tight. “You mean you don’t know? Liam was an Assassin, Colette. One of the best ones in Ireland. He retired to be with his family. And that’s what got him killed. Templars struck him when he thought all was safe and dandy. Your mother was one of our top informants, but she was never what you call a field agent. They met when Liam was sent to Paris on a liaison mission between us and the Irish chapter of the Assassin Brotherhood.”

 

Colette gasped. It all made sense now. “So my uncles are in danger and I’m squarely in the center of the mess if you think about it. What can  we do, Arno?”

 

“I’ll protect you, Colette.” Michael interrupted. “You have me and you know that. The four of us will look out for each other.”

 

“Michael, you’re pretty much in the crosshairs too, since you’ve got connections to Sean and Liam. They were still in the barn when you found Liam. They’ve kept tabs on you. And now you’re involved with Colette. That makes you double involved once they find her out,” Arno admonished, pointing to a dossier with Michael’s name on it. He showed them many other documents which all seem to pinpoint the Fleur-de-Lyre.

 

Colette buried herself in Michael’s arms, seeking shelter. “What should we do, Arno?” she asked again.

 

“Leave Paris. I can arrange that, if you’d like,” he answered.

 

“I have to talk to my uncles first,” she replied, sucking in a deep breath. It was all too much to take in.

 


	8. Into the Maelstrom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tough choice must be made, and Colette finds herself moving in with Michael

 

“And Arno swears by this information?” asked a highly agitated Sean as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. Jacques paced the room, stopping to look out one of the windows. Michael and Colette had just relayed everything Arno had told them.

 

“Yes he does, Uncle. I saw all the dossiers and documents they intercepted from the Templars myself. I know it all seems very foreboding, but we’re not going to seriously leave Paris are we?” Colette leaned back with him, uncertain.

 

“Non, Paris is our home!” Jacques answered, turning to them from his view at the window.

 

“But, Uncle, what can we do?  Galais has the whole of the Garde Nationale under his command. There’s only the four of us. And we’re next. You know we’re next. Toussaint’s place burned to the ground this morning. The police are blaming some vagrant brigand, but we know the truth.”

 

“Maybe we should split up, at least til we can find a better solution. We’re fish in a fuckin’ barrel right here,” said Sean.  “Michael, do you think Colette could stay with you for the time being?” he asked, staring Michael in the eyes, man to man.

 

“Of course she can! And by my life, no harm will come to her. I swear it,” Michael promised, placing his hand over his heart.

 

“Better not, Fassbender. If any harm come to our Colette, I will kick your arse. Mark my words,” Sean said shaking his fist.

 

 _Champion boxer back in Ireland_ , he thought, remembering what Colette had told him.

 

“And my blade will carve whatever’s left into pieces so small the dogs will starve on your carcass,” added Jacques, brandishing his rapier.

  
 _...Master duelist_ , Michael remembered, gulping and holding his throat, shuddering at visualizing the strays trying to feed on his bruised and bloody corpse.

 

“You have my word,” Michael solemnly promised again, looking Jacques in the eye. “Colette go pack your things, you’re coming to live with me. For now.”

 

“What should I pack?” she asked.

 

“Everything,” he stated, turning to look at her.

 

“ _D’accord, mon chere_. I really do not have much, but there’s something I need to pull down from the attic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 _I think I can fit everything into that small trunk of maman’s_ , she thought, creeping up the ladder to the attic. She found her mother’s old small steamer trunk tucked off in the back corner. Brushing the dust off made her cough, but when it had settled, emblems on the lock and sides of the trunk caught her eye. The symbol of the Assassins.

 

“ _Fils de salope_! (son of a bitch!) how the hell did I not remember this?! Maman, did you have your Assassin shenanigans under my nose the whole time?” she pondered. She looked closely at the lock; the mechanism was strange to her. There was just a narrow horizontal slit where a keyhole should have been. “What the fuck?! Ugh. I don’t have time to drag this thing all the way to see Arno.”

 

“Well, it’s a good thing I decided to check up on you,” said a familiar voice bolting through the open window.

 

“Mon Dieu! Don’t you ever use a door like normal people?” she said, a bit peeved on the intrusion.  

 

“On occasion. Now what is this?”

 

“It’s my mother’s trunk. I can’t get it open. I don’t even know where to begin. It’s unlike any lock I ever seen,” she explained, pointing to the slit-like keyhole.

 

“Ah. Allow me,” Arno said, holding up his gauntleted hand. He popped his wrist and a hidden blade sprang forward. He plunged the blade into the slit and turned his wrist. A clicking was heard,making Arno grin at accomplishing what Colette could not.

 

“You Assassins are chock full of surprises and toys, aren’t ya?” she rolled her eyes, half jealous.

 

“You have no idea!” he crowed. “Now let’s see what mommy dearest has locked away,” he said, throwing the trunk lid open. Their mouths gaped open at the sight of its contents. There were a few pieces of rare and exquisite jewelry, more documents, articles of clothing, and a black box the size of a small stack of books. They decided to open the black box first.  

 

Arno found a secret button hidden a small recess on the bottom and pressed it, the lid opening slowly. A bright light filled the dusty old attic. Shielding their eyes, they saw something that looked like a large diamond, only it ebbed with a power appearing both ancient and futuristic.

 

“OH MON DIEU!” screeched Arno. “A Piece of Eden! I’ll be damned!” he said, hushing his tone a bit in fear of someone listening in.

 

“A Piece of Eden? What is that?” queried Colette.

 

“A very powerful artifact tied to a precursor race, known as “The Ones Who Came Before”. You might know them as the Roman pantheon - Juno and Minerva mainly.”

 

“Roman gods? Get real.” Colette rolled her eyes at the thought.

 

“I’m not joking, Colette,” he said with eyes darkening. The sternness in his voice made Colette gasp. “They weren’t really gods. The whole matter is - complicated. Ezio Auditore da Firenze was the first to encounter them directly. There are many Pieces of Eden, Colette, some of them do different things. I wonder what this diamond does? What ever that may be, you can be sure it’s powerful.  We cannot let the Templars get this, or any of the artifacts for that matter. We’re talking potential infinite power. I’m taking this back with me,” he said, putting the Diamond back in the box, patting it.

 

“I don’t want that thing anywhere around me anyway. Be my guest. Take this chest as well, it has my father’s Assassin gear in it.”

 

“It would be an honor, and I have just the place to display his effects - in my trophy room.  But what about the jewelry, Colette?”

 

“I’m taking this necklace, something to remember my mother by. And this pocketwatch, it was my father’s.The rest, sell it. Take a cut for yourself, but leave enough for Michael and I to get out of here and get set up.”

 

“That I’ll do. What about these documents? They outline how your mother and Toussaint came about the Diamond. Also journals their activities in Paris as well as how they taught you a few tricks they learned from the Brotherhood,” he said shuffling through the papers.

 

“Keep them I have no use for them. I don’t want to know what tangled webs they wove.”

 

“Thanks Colette, these will be in good hands. I tell ya what. Give me time to get home and I’ll send my private carriage here to bring you and Michael to his flat, your stuff included. I’ll even throw in another trunk in exchange for this one.”

 

“That would be awesome! Thank you!” she jumped up, throwing her arms around him, and kissed him on the cheek. She almost could swear she saw him blushing, or maybe it was the trick of the light.

  


Colette packed her personal affects in her room in no time, throwing letters, jewelry, money and other small items in her knapsack. She carefully laid out her clothes on top of each other, and rolled them up into a bundle, tying them up with a bit of twine. This would do, until Arno brought her the trunk he promised.

 

Sean knocked on Colette’s door, letting her know the carriage had arrived. She thanked him, and gathered her knapsack and the roll of clothes on her back.  She hugged her uncles bye, Michael taking her things and loading them in the carriage for her.

 

Michael’s  place was a small  bachelor’s flat  in the Louvre district of the city, just northwest of the Place de la Revolution. Colette was relieved to see it was in a nice building.

 

“Fancy digs, Mr. Fassbender!” she whistled as she put her knapsack down. Michael laughed as he carried the trunk Arno had left her in the carriage into the room.

“I do okay. Would rather my own little cottage somewhere, maybe a small farm?” Colette laughed,  shaking her head.  He grinned, twirling her around in a mock dance.

 

“So when the cats are away the cats will play!” Michael laughed, pulling Colette in front of him chest-to-chest and rubbing her ass, making her shiver.

 

“I really need to get unpacked first,” she pouted. “Won’t take long.”

 

Michael frowned, but Colette erased it  with a kiss.  He eased, showing her where she could put her clothes and giving her quarter to arrange her things the way she wanted. She folded her clothes neatly into the little trunk Arno gave her; they had been hurriedly tossed in while in the carriage. Michael cleared a drawer for her in his desk, and she found it ample room enough to store her letters and jewelry, as well as a few other small things. A lump caught her throat when she realized she had  Sean’s keys.

 

“Shit! Michael we have to go back to the pub. There’s something I must give back to them!”

 

“But!” he tried to object, but Colette tugged his arm so forcefully, that he had little choice but follow. They raced downstairs, and as luck would have it, found the carriage still there. Colette guessed that Arno had instructed the driver to make sure they hadn’t been followed.   
  
“To the Fleur-de-Lyre!” Colette commanded, jumping into the carriage with Michael behind her.

 

Colette saw the pillars of smoke before they even got within a block. Anxious, she quit the carriage before the driver could even stop fully. Her heart sank, and her worse fears were confirmed as she rounded  the corner toward the pub.  It was engulfed in flames. The whole pub was on fire.  The two could nothing but stand in shock and awe as everything Colette had known since girlhood - all those memories - was reduced to embers. A crowd was forming, some expressing their sadness, some expressing their damnation to the “traitors”. A squad of guardsmen was trying to put out the inferno with buckets of water.  They managed a couple small victories, but the pub was lost, even the living quarters was thoroughly charred. Some of the front wall had been completely eaten to reveal the blackened interior. A woman shrieked and cries of “There’s bodies! They didn’t make it!” echoed through the crowd. Colette started sobbing as she moved closer. She collapsed into Michael’s arms when she saw the two burnt bodies lying in a heap not even four feet from where the front door had been. Michael tried to comfort her, but she couldn’t compose herself, her uncles were gone.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunset had passed, but Colette was still trying to come to grips with reality. She was now the sole survivor in her family. She sat on a barrel, blinking, and staring blankly at the remains of the Fleur-de-Lyre. Michael had given up trying to snap her back, and sat quitely by her, his arm around her.

 

“Pity about that place, best ale in Paris. Staff was friendly too, except for that bratty little wench they had serving drinks. Always gave me a hard time, that one,” said a man behind her. Colette turned to glare at the stranger, hand reaching for her dagger. There were two of them. Both wearing bicorn hats and wearing scarves covering their faces. A familiar pair of green eyes and  ginger locks peeked out from the beneath the hat of the man that broke the solitude. Hazel eyes and brown hair was under the other hat, Colette noticed the rapier at his side. Colette started to scream in joy, but Sean shushed her, motioning them to follow.

 

The walked a short distance to the docks, and finally Sean broke the silence, squeezing Colette til she couldn’t breathe. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, dove! I didn’t think we’d make it out alive. The thought of never seeing you again was too much” C’mon we need to keep moving. Shoreline is the best way to go.”

 

“What the fucking hell happened?!” she squelched emphatically. Her uncles shushed her again.

 

“Templars,” Jacques hissed. “But we were ready, we saw them coming. There were four of them. Two were dead as soon as they fully stepped inside. We ambushed them.”

 

“The two others were bigger lads, but after tangling with us a few minutes, they ran home with their tails between their legs. I saw Arno leap from a rooftop onto them. They didn’t run anymore after that,” added Sean.

 

“So the two bodies…..the two you killed? Faking your own deaths? That’s actually pretty brilliant. But now what?” asked Michael.

 

“We can’t stay, they will come after us once they regroup and realize it wasn’t us who died,” said Sean, sighing. “Which is why we’re taking Arno up on his offer.”

 

Colette stepped between her uncles, matching their stride. “Where will you go?”

 

“ _Nous allons à la Nouvelle Orléans_ ,” said Jacques quietly, pulling the bicorn hat down over his eyes further.

 

“New Orleans?! But Louisiana is under Spanish rule right now,” Colette whined.

 

“Yes, dove, it is, but that may change. And it’s perfect. Arno has graciously booked us passage through some clandestine contacts of his. We’ll be okay, I swear, and we’ll send word when we arrive and get set up. You and Michael join us when you can make a break for it,” Sean instructed..

 

The four continued along the northern shoreline of the River Seine. Colette thought they would never stop, until Jacques halted them just east of the Pont Neuf. Arno awaited them in a small dory; he’d be taking them out the the main ship anchored just outside the city. It was time to say goodbye.

“Why can’t we just come with along?” she said, tears forming in her soft brown eyes.

 

“Because, dove, it’s too risky. Once they discovered their cronies were the ones who died in the fire, they’ll be tracking us. Better for you to stay put as long as you can. When we’ve set up shop in New Orleans, you and Michael take the first boat out once you get word,” Sean explained, scooping his niece up in his arms in a comforting embrace.

“And I’ll be there to get you out of Paris as well,” promised Arno. “Come, Sean, Jacques. The ship won’t wait and we’ve a fair bit of rowing to do.”  

 

“Bye dove. Be careful. I’ll miss you already,” Sean said, kissing her cheek. “Fassbender, take good care of her or I’ll still come back and kick your ass.”

 

“I will, I swear it.” Michael said, looking him in the eye.

 

“Aye, I know.  May the wolves always be in your dreams, Michael, but never at your door,” said Sean, offering a handshake.  
  
  
“May the road rise up to meet ya, may the wind be always at your back,” Michael returned, firmly shaking Sean’s hand before he sat down in the boat.

 

“Oh _ma petite_! What will we do without our sassy girl?” He ruffled her hair. “I love you, Colette. Adieu,” Jacques said gently, kissing her on both cheeks.

 

“ _À bientôt_ (See you soon), Uncle! _Je t’aime de tout mon coeur!_ (I love you with all my heart)” she said, pulling him in for a tight hug. Jacques patted her head, running his fingers through her hair.

 

“You are so much like your mother,” he said, reminiscing, His gaze shifted to Michael. “Take care of her, _mon amie_. She is and always will be our little girl. And I'll still stab you.” Colette scoffed, but Michael nodded, jaw tight, and looking Jacques in the eye.

 

“You have my word, sir,” he said as Jacques joined Sean in the boat. He pulled Colette to his side, and they both waved her uncles goodbye until they were no long visible on the River Seine.

 

 


	9. Cabin Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colette and Michael find things to do to pass the time waiting on word from Arno

Colette stared out the window, daydreaming about the day they could leave the chaos of the Revolution behind them. Not to mention this whole torrid affair she seemed to have with the Assassins and Templars. Michael's flat wasn't right on top of it, but she still could hear the shouts and cheers erupting from the Place de la Revolution. She squinted. The blurry frame of the guillotine was barely visible from her post. Still, an eerie chill caught her, and she couldn't help but think that she would never be free from under Madame Guillotine's shadow.

 

"What are ya thinking about, love?" Michael's voice broke her train of thought, and the guillotine's hold on her thoughts slipped. She looked over at him. He was grinning, laying on his back, and still clad in nothing but the bedsheet. Damn that man!

Smiling, she tred over to him, sliding into lay next to him. He threw his arms over, protecting her from whatever captivated her prior thoughts.

 

"You were gone when I opened my eyes," he pouted, kissing the back of her neck.

 

"Sorry mon chere, but I couldn't sleep," she replied, hugging his arms.

 

"What is it then, that has you so restless?" he questioned, freeing a hand to play with a loose strand of her luxurious auburn hair.

 

"Bad dreams," she said.  "And I'm worried about my uncles. It’s been over six weeks. I thought Arno was checking those pigeons of his for news, but we've heard nothing. You don't think their ship crashed, do you?" she turned to face him with tears welling up in her soulful brown eyes.

 

"Don't talk like that! You know damn well they made it. Even if the ship did crash, they'd be the only two fuckers who would make it to New Orleans via breaststroke," he asserted.

 

"Hm. More like doggy paddle," she laughed, feeling the tension ease away. He was right, there was no use in worrying. Surely Arno would have news for them soon.

 

"That's my girl! " he said, feeling her relax in his arms. "Besides you should be worried about something else."

 

"And what's that?"

 

"What I'm going to do to you in this bed now that I've tricked you back into it! C’mere!" he growled, nibbling on her neck. Colette squealed, squirming, feigning trying to escape from his clutches. Pinning her down with one hand and straddling her, he let his free one explore under her dress. "Tsk tsk, This simply won't do. How dare you not be properly dressed for this occasion."

 

"But, Monsieur, I did not receive a proper invitation!"  she laughed in mock protest.

 

“Oh, you want an invitation, do you? I shall get you one,” he said lowly, getting up from the bed.

 

"What are you up to?" she demanded, eyeing his naked form suspiciously as he rummaged through the nearby wardrobe .

 

"I can't tell you, love. It's a surprise. Speaking of which, close your eyes," he instructed. She complied, gulping nervously as she shut her eyes. She could still hear him scrounging around for a few more seconds, but then all fell silent. She blindly crawled to the edge of the bed, sitting up with her legs dangling off the side. Her ears pricked; she heard him pad across the wood floor, coming closer to her. A faint jangling trailed him.

'

" _Nous allons jouer un petit jeu_ (We're going to play a little game)," he said huskily. Colette giggled silently at his rough French. "Colette, _ouvre tes yeux! Maintenant_! (Open your eyes! Now!)"

 

" _Tu parles français_? Very impressive! I like it!" she grinned. That is, until she noticed the shackles in his hands. "Um what are those?"

 

"Souvenirs from the Bastille," he smirked, throwing them on the bed. "Oh, that's right, you're not formally dressed for this party." His hands grabbed the hem of her dress, jerking it over her head and off her body in one smooth motion. Her undergarments followed. "There now. That’s much better. Now, love, how should we go about this?”

 

“I bet those chains would look just smashing on you,” Colette quipped as Michael fastened the loose ends to the bedposts.

 

“They’re not for me, Colette,” he grinned, motioning her on the bed. “On all fours, now. Good, now crawl up a bit closer to the headboard. Good girl,” he growled lowly fastening the shackles to her wrists, making her support herself on her knees and elbows, her forearms outstretched with her hands clasping at the fetters.

 

She felt him move onto the bed, positioning himself behind her. “Oh my what a nice ass you have!” he remarked, cupping her cheeks with both hands. He squeezed them roughly, making Colette gasp.  “Mm and I do love this little crater in your lower back, so lovely,” he said softly, kissing it, then trailing his lips from there up her back to her shoulders. The sensation tingled her to her soul.

 

“Oh fuck! Ugh!” moaned Colette.

 

Michael smiled.  “Fuck? Of course we can, love. Have a little patience.”  He shrank back from hovering over her back. Colette heard him  grunting, moaning low. “But first, I’m going to torture you a bit, just a bit,” he said resting his cock squarely atop her ass. The heat radiating from his body was driving her crazy, and still reeling from the affects of his lips along her shoulders, she felt herself becoming wet in anticipation.

 

“Michael, please!” she begged.

 

“Want me inside you?” he smirked, reaching to tease her with a finger.

 

“Fucking yes!” she whined.

 

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he whispered, forcefully plunging his rock-hard cock into her, balls deep.  She shuddered, shaking with him penetrating her to her very core.

 

Michael paused to take in the moment, but was quickly urged on by Colette’s hips bucking against him.

 

“My god, woman you are so impatient!” he laughed, obliging her by thrusting his own hips. He started of with long, slow thrusts, but Colette urged him again, bucking wildly against him.

“And so insatiable! In such a hurry, too!” he mused, driving himself harder and faster into her. She met each thrust with a moan and whimper, putting all her weight  on her knees and the chains on her wrists, clasping them for dear life. Michael grabbed her hips, digging his nails into her flesh as he pound harder, their bodies slapping against each other in wanton vibration.

 

He could feel himself enter the home stretch, and the way Colette was moaning, he could tell it wouldn’t be long for her either. A wry grin pursed his lips as he withdrew completely out. He teased her entrance with the head of his cock. Colette started to protest, but he silenced her, impaling her with his shaft.

 

“Ugh!” squelched Colette, rolling her eyes in ecstasy. He repeated this a few more times. The last of which he withdrew slowly, inching his way, wanting her to feel every millimeter of his dick as he pulled out  Colette whined, biting her bottom lip. Michael leaned over to blow softly into her ear, before violently lunging his full length back into her cunt.

 

He picked back up thrusting furiously, gyrating his hips. Colette could feel his sac hitting her clit, making her clutch at the the chains harder, her knuckles turning white. She came harder, screaming his name, cursing in  both French and in English. Michael thrust through the screaming, driving himself into his own orgasm.

 

“Oh shit!” he yelled, his load shooting deep within her walls. Wiping the sweat from his eyes, he scooted up to release the fetters, turning to kiss her and masse her wrists. He had set her free in more ways than one..

 

She returned his kiss, playing her hands down his back and cupping his ass. She licked the sweat of his neck, trailing her tongue down his torso and continued down the front of his hip, stopping. She grinned and looked up at him.

 

“Round Two?” she asked. He nodded, he was already semi-hard again from the brushes of her tongue against his skin.  She licked at the tip, cupping his balls in one hand, holding on to his hip with the other. She slowly and deliberately took him into her mouth, her tongue searching every inch. He grunted.  She stopped, pulling him out with a loud pop and getting up, pushed him toward the bed.

 

“Your turn, now get up there!” she commanded, making him crawl backwards toward the headboard.

 

“Wait a minute, love. What are you playing at?” he asked nervously.

 

“ _Nous allons jouer un petit jeu_ ,” she grinned, clapping the irons about his wrists, and drawing up the slack in the chains. Brandishing a scarf, she tied it over his eyes as a makeshift blindfold.

 

“Where the fuck did you get that?!” he barked, shifting uneasily in the bed.

 

“Shhh. Does it matter? Now, I played fair for you; time for you to do the same.” He felt her slide off the bed, tugging at his feet a second later.  She pulled them out straight.  “Now, I’m warning you, do not move your legs; or else I will bind them as well.”

 

“Yes, ma’am!” he replied. He got a bit nervous again when silence enveloped the room again, but was relieved when he felt her moving on the bed. She kissed him deeply,her hands carelessly roaming over his stomach, gliding down to find her mark. She took him into her mouth again and sucked until she was satisfied at his hardness.

 

Steadying herself, she squatted over him, lowering herself slowly onto his erection. He grunted, trying to move, but she spurred him with her heels. “Remember what I said, keep those legs straight.”  She rocked her hips, slowly at first, toying with him. Feeling him jerk under her, she quickened the pace, riding him steady.

 

“Michael, I wish you could see what I’m doing to my tits,” she cooed, caressing one and tweaking the nipple on the other one, lightly moaning at her own touch.

 

“Ugh you bitch!” he grunted. She smirked. She was having too much fun and didn’t plan to stop.

 

“Now, mon chere, I’m rubbing one, passing my free hand down my body, and, ah, it feels so nice. All while I’m bobbing on this delicious cock of yours. Uh! And it feels so nice inside me, the way it fills me up. So lovely.” Michael bucked his hips at her, trying to punish her for not letting his hands explore her. He pushed against his chains, wanting them off.

 

“And now, I’m touching myself, Michael, down there. You know, you’re favorite spot on the right side of my clit? Oh! Ugh so nice. Would be nice if you could do this for me. Mmm,” she added deviously. Michael couldn’t take it anymore, his lust was more powerful than the fetters he was writhing in. With a mighty grunt, he broke loose, tearing off his blind fold.

 

“Goddamn rusty chains!” Colette squealed. She tried to get away, but he held her on himself.

 

“You!” he growled, Flipping them over so he was now on top, and fully in control. “I cannot get enough of you!”  he kissed her roughly, nibbling her neck as he proceeded to power thrust into her. She thought he would fuck her into oblivion, feeling his pelvis push against her clit each time. Michael took a nipple in his mouth, suckling on it, then nibbling, biting and groping the rest of her breasts. Colette moaned and bit back at his cheek as he came up to meet her mouth, kissing her so deeply that Colette thought for sure her soul was leaving her body.

 

“I’m there, love. Cum for me!” he bellowed, blowing into her ear, and thrusting roughly. She came hard, meeting his own orgasm as he spilled inside her.  Breathlessly, he rolled off onto his side, drawing her close.

 

“Fuck, Michael! You’re a fucking beast!” she exhaled, trying to even her breathing. He smiled, holding her hand as they slipped into an afternoon nap.

 

 


	10. The Elysian Fields

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colette and Michael get some fresh air

 

Colette paced aimlessly around the bedroom of Michael’s flat. Michael threw a pillow at her, sensing her aggravation. She caught it and returned fire. He laughed, trying to break the tension.

 

“It’s not funny, Michael! If we don’t get out of this building, I WILL use you as target practice!” she glared at him, crossing her arms. “No” wasn’t an option. Michael gulped, last thing he wanted to do was end up as a pincushion for Colette’s dagger. What was it with this family and their pointy objects?

 

“Ok fine, love. We’ll get out a while. Where would you like to go?” he conceded.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Maybe I should've risked the dagger," Michael whined, shifting the weight of Colette’s knapsack to his other shoulder.. Colette had guided him south, and he found themselves skirting along the western edge of the Place de la Révolution.

 

"Quit complaining! Can you believe we missed Danton's execution last month? " Colette said with a hint of whining.

 

"Danton? As in Georges Danton? Wasn't he one of the bigwigs behind this revolution? " interrogated Michael.

 

"Yes, but apparently not anymore. I heard his financial integrity was questionable," she added.

 

"Ha! I think we know the real reason he fell from grace," he stated.

 

"Oh? And what's that mon cher?"

 

"Simple, love. He pissed off Robespierre."

 

"Must've pissed him off  majorly. Arno told me Robespierre called for the immediate arrest of all the Girondists. He had a grand time trying to shepherd as many out of the city as he could", she returned.

 

"Eh, well Robespierre doesn't seem like the sort who likes competition. And I hear the Girondists were tired of his bloodthirsty tendencies,” Michael explained.

 

“And when did you get so knowledgeable about French politics? "

 

"Been spending too much time with yer uncles, trying to get on their good side."

 

"Mon amour, how many times do I have to tell you you ARE on their good side? Really. You should've seen what they did to my last boyfriend," she assured.

 

"Um, what was that then, love?" he asked nervously.

 

"Thierry? They tied him to a rowboat and made him pull them from one end of the River Seine to the other. Barely let him stop to catch a breath. Something about testing his endurance. Damn near killed him,too," she recalled. "Uncle Jacques would prick him in the back with his rapier if he stopped before they gave him permission."

 

"Bloody feckin' 'ell!"

 

"Yeah. He broke up with me after that. And Sean broke his legs for dumping me. And Antoine. Tsk tsk. Poor Antoine.  Perhaps one day, he'll snap back to reality. So, mon cher, believe me when I say they like you. Or it would be much worse than just threats. Besides, they left me in your hands. That alone should tell you something."

 

Michael gulped, looking down at the cobbled street they trod on. They were almost outside the city going west, and he was beginning to think they would be exiting Paris altogether. Colette grabbed his hand, guiding him a bit south. “We’re almost there,” she said looking up to him with sparkling eyes.

 

“What is this place, love?” Michael queried as she took them into a remote part of the city. Stone fences, hedges and vagabonds were strewn all about between the trees.

  
  


“ _Bienvenue aux Champs Élysées_ , Michael,” she said, their eyes surveying what they could make out in the fog.

 

“Cheerful place, this. Just what exactly are the ‘Champs Élysées’?” he asked, scanning for trouble.

 

“I thought you spoke French? The Elysian Fields - Paris edition. Consider it an enchanted forest of deserters and criminals, the last bastion for miscreants. Perfect for us  to get some fresh air and blend in.”  They walked along. Small groups were camped out haphazardly here and there. They even saw a few spartan camps of solitary wayfarers.  They found a clear spot near the city wall and decided to set up there.  Colette unfolded a large blanket onto the ground while Michael fished out a couple sandwiches. They ate, watching dusk was settle in.

 

“How the fuck do you fit all this in the one bag?” he asked, turning to her.

 

“It’s bigger on the inside?, “ she winked. “You act like I’ve never packed anything my whole life. Besides, it was just a couple of blankets and some food. Not like I packed everything from home,” she shrugged.

 

“You’re calling my flat home now? That’s new.”

 

“Anywhere you are, is home to me,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. He caught her arm as she went to walk off, twirling around back into his arms, and pulled her in for a deeper kiss.

 

They were interrupted by a frantic Jasper, who tapped on Colette’s shoulder repeatedly. “Excuse me, _Mademoiselle_?”

 

“Quiet boy, we’re busy. Go away,” Michael answered indignantly, balling his hand up into a fist.

 

“P-p-please sir, I mean no disrespect. It’s just that Monsieur Dorian tasked me with bringing you this letter. Said it’s important. I’ve had a heck of a time finding you,” he said, taking his newsboy cap off.  He handed Colette the letter.

 

“Definitely the Assassin’s seal, Michael,” she noted, breaking the wax seal and unfolding the parchment inside.

 

**C,**

**Two eagles safely in their new nest.  But beware, Cerberus has caught your scent. I am making arrangements for you. Stay low.**

**Regards,**

**\-- A**

  
  


Colette’s face waxed pale. “Jasper, how long ago were you given this letter?”

 

“About four hours ago, Miss.  Like I said, took me a long time to find you. Please don’t be angry.”

 

“I’m not. You did your best. Here,” she said, tossing a couple of coins in his hand. “Go get something to eat and then go tell Arno, we’re awaiting further instruction.” She placed her customary kiss on his cheek.  “And Jasper! Do be careful!”  He nodded, running off to disappear in the city.

 

“What now, love?” Michael queried, coming behind to wrap his arms around her.

 

“I don’t know,” she shook her head. “All we can do is keep our eyes open and our asses grounded. At least, until we get word from Arno.”  

 

“Fuck! I don’t like that one bit; we’re fucking sitting ducks!”

 

“I know but what else can we do? Let’s just camp out here tonight. We’ll go back home first light and get our shit. We’ll go see Arno after. Maybe he has safehouse where we can lay low until we can leave for New Orleans,” she reasoned.

 

“I think you’re right, Michael nodded. They moved to another remote spot behind the farthest back stone fence and spread out the blanket again. The weary couple lay down on their backs, staring up at the night sky. Michael threw his arm over Colette, holding on to her for dear life.

 

“At least the stars are out tonight, mon cher. Aren’t they beautiful?!” she asked, pointing to the sky. “Look how they sparkle!”

 

“The only sparkle I want to stare at is the one in your eyes,” he laughed, pulling her up for a kiss.

 

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she grinned. He moved on top of her, nipping the top of her cleavage and pursuing  her neck up until he found her lips again.  She could feel how hard he already was as he moved between her legs. He panted in her ear again. He wanted her badly, despite all reason, and the thought of impending danger made her wet.

 

“We’re going to have to be quiet out here, “she warned. “There’s not many police or people, but it’s still risk.”

 

“Good enough, love,” he purred, blowing in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. How could she keep quiet if he kept doing things like that? The man was not playing fair.  

 

Michael unfastened his pants and parted her dress.  She could feel him radiating heat at her entrance. He entered her with a forceful thrust.

 

“OH GO-!”  she tried to scream, but he put his hand over her mouth.

 

“Shhhh! Remember we have to be quiet!” he said sternly. He began thrusting again, slowly he inched in and out of her. Colette moaned loudly, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

 

“Fuck! Ugh, Oh God!” she cursed aloud again. Michael silenced her with a kiss, swallowing every sound coming from her. He relented, his eyes locked onto her in an intense stare.

 

“That’s it, look at me love. Shh, remember, quiet now,” he instructed as he quickened the pace. He could feel both their climaxes mounting, moving down to graze on her neck. Colette came, loudly at first. He silenced her again with a kiss, drinking the rest of her orgasm with her pulling his hair. A few more thrusts sent him over the edge. He came, muffling his groans between Colette’s breasts. Kissing her on the forehead, he withdrew.

 

“I love you!” she smiled breathlessly. He smiled back.

“I love you more!” They cleaned themselves up the best they could before settling down to sleep, Colette in Michael’s arms.

  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn came, but it was not the sunlight that awoke Colette; but rather a sharp kick to the gut. She looked up to see the boots of several of the National Guard encircling them, muskets trained on the sleeping couple.  One of them poked Michael in the throat with a bayonet. He roused, sitting up in utter panic, grabbing Colette.

 

“ _Bonjour, mademoiselle_!” said a deep voice coming into the circle. From the insignia on his uniform, Colette could see he was an officer.  He squatted down, looking her in the eyes.

 

“Galais! _Merde_!” she gulped.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. Fun Times At the Grand Châtelet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colette finds herself in a world of trouble as she faces Galais behind prison bars

 

Colette awoke to find herself in the dirty confines of some obscure cell, her arms  set in shackles. She could move but did not have too much range. She wrestled against them, hoping to somehow free herself, but was in vain. Footsteps approached, stopping at her cell. Galais and his detachment greeted her at the bars.

 

“ _Bienvenue á la Grand Châtelet_ ,” he sneered. “I trust you find your accommodations to your liking? “ Colette groaned, rolling her eyes. A guard to his right unlocked her cell door, and Galais sauntered inside.

“Where is Michael?” she demanded, her gaze piercing him.

 

“My dear, you are in no position to be interrogating me.”

 

“ _Je m’en fou_! (I don’t give a fuck!)” she said, straining against the chains. “Where is Michael Fassbender?” she repeated defiantly.

 

“Most likely licking his wounds at his place. He really didn’t know shit. Guess our intel was wrong. Helped us find you though. He is much easier to track,” he said, lips pursing into a evil smile. “No worries, my dear. After we’re done with you, I’ll send two of my best to cater to him. He shall be given our very best care. You can bet your pretty head of that. As for now, you and I need to talk,” he said, eyes darkening with anger, brows furrowed.

 

“You can’t do this to me! I’m a French citizen!” she declared, angrily shaking her chains.

 

“No! You’re a gilded Irish cunt! And a fucking thorn in my side before your birth. Your parents were the very bane of my existence.”

 

“I’m still half French and a citizen here since a small girl! My mother was beautiful woman from Calais!” she protested.

 

“Your mother?! Your mother was traitorous bitch who ditched her ‘beloved France’ for an asshole Irish Rogue - an Assassin nonetheless! You’re a cur, a blight upon everything France stands for!”  

 

“Don’t you mean everything the Templars stand for?” she spit at him. “I take being a ‘cur’ anyday above being a full-blooded French _connasse_ wanting so desperately to be Robespierre’s right hand bitch! Was playing second fiddle to Germain not enough for you? Why don’t you go lick his boots and leave me alone?”

 

“Enough!! Where is it? Where is the Diamond?!!”

 

“Diamond? Ha! So that’s what this is about? The Diamond? You think getting that for your boss will give you higher standing than his faithful lapdog, Hanriot?”

 

“Insolent bitch! You would do well to mind that mouth!” he seethed, grabbing Colette by the throat and squeezing tightly. Colette gagged, dizzy.  

 

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell you. Come closer and I’ll whisper it in your ear.”  Galais relaxed his grip, bending down to her as she rubbed her throat, coughing.

 

“Well?” he demanded, as she came up to his ear.

 

“ _Nique ton pere_! (Fuck your father!)” she whispered arrogantly. Galais promptly delivered a haymaker to her jaw. She reeled, spitting blood from her mouth.

 

“Oh, it’s best you do fuckin kill me now. Because if I get out of these shackles, you’ll pay dearly for that!”

 

“Where is the Diamond?!” he said, delivering another blow. She fell again on the floor. She could feel her face swelling. Sulking, she brought herself back to her feet.

 

“Nice signet,” she nodded toward the large ring on his hand. “Did your boyfriend give it to you as a reward for polishing his knob or for executing innocent people?” she hissed through her teeth.

 

Galias frowned. “WHERE IS THE BLOODY DIAMOND, YOU SILLY WHORE?!” he bellowed, grabbing her again.

 

“I CAN’T TELL YOU WHAT I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!” she returned in a fit of fury, thrashing at him.  He let go, backing just far enough to be out of her reach.

 

“Very well,” he chortled, his face relaxing into a smirk. He exited the cell and locked it behind him. “I’ll find it without you. I’m afraid you’ve outlived your usefulness, Colette.  She goes to the guillotine come dawn,” he said to a guard.

 

“ _Oui, Monsieur_!” the guard saluted.  Galais swaggered off, but sashayed back to Colette right before the exit to the cell block.

 

“Oh Colette? Do say hello to your mother for me? Last time I saw her, she was lying in a pool of her own blood,” he said coolly, slamming the cell block door behind him. Colette wrestled in her chains again, mentally throwing daggers at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Colette had passed out, exhausted from her encounter with Galais. Her heart and her mind were heavy with grief. She was still half asleep when she heard more footsteps approaching.  
  


Michael gasped when he saw her - bruised and bleeding, lying on a filthy mat in the dirt.

  
“Colette!”  he rushed to her cell. “What have you bastards done to her?” he growled at the guard.  “Colette! Wake up, love!”  

  
“Michael?” she said, groggily.  “But how did y--?”   
  


  
“Shh. Never mind that. I’m going to get you out of here somehow, lass. I promise ya.”

 

“It’s too late for me, _mon_ _cher_.  I’m to be guillotine fodder come dawn. Here take this. I managed to hide it away,” she said, handing him her necklace, “The guards will just claim it when I’m gone. Take it and pawn it. Get yourself to Louisiana, back to Ireland, or wherever. Just get out of Paris and don’t look back.” He hesitated a minute.  “Michael, TAKE IT PLEASE!”  

 

“Time’s up, _Monsieur_ Fassbender!” bellowed the guard, motioning Michael to leave.

 

He bent down, meeting her face to face. “I love you, Colette.” he kissed her through the prison bars, taking the necklace.

 

“I love you, too _mon amour_.”

 

“I said time’s up!” The guard grabbed Michael and shoved him toward the cell block exit, but he could not take his eyes off her.  
  


“Go and live _mon amour_. And remember me,”she beckoned. Tears were streaming down her face.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn came, as did a company of guards to retrieve her from her cell.

“Careful with this one!” the lieutenant instructed, Galais said she had the devils from seven hells.” Colette scoffed, kicking him in the groin as they loosed her feet.

The others rapidly restrained her arms behind her back, clasping them in another set of irons.

 "This is the best Galais has? Ha!", she mocked triumphantly.

“Are you alright, sir?” one asked the lieutenant, who was rolling on the ground nursing his sweets. He nodded, got up, and took position in front. Two guardsmen prodded her with bayonets, escorting her out. They kept her in the center. The two at her back with bayonets, two in the front, and the lieutenant taking point.

 

“Oh shit, this it”, she said, stepping aboard the prison wagon. This one wasn’t enclosed, and she could see the people scurry about their lives. She breathed in the Parisian air deeply. This was home, and she would miss it terribly. And her uncles. And Michael. She hoped he wouldn’t be there to see this.

 

  
The wagon wheels slowed to a halt. A guard yelling at the prisoners in French motioned them out one by one. Colette blinked rapidly; the sun hurt her eyes. Son of a bitch! They were going to execute her right by her old home! She could still see the ruins of the Fleur-de-Lyre a few leagues to the side of her. Her heart sank. She thought about all the memories she had there.

 

A sharp poke to her back brought her out of reminiscing. The others had already gone before her to meet their fate. It was now her turn. The guardsmen kept the bayonet steady at her back, forcing her up the stairs to the platform. She could see her old neighbors and patrons cheering for her demise.

 

 _Just like Toussaint_ , she thought.

 

"Any last words, _mademoiselle_?" questioned Galias with a smirk.

 

" _Non, monsieur_ ".

 

"Then I hope you have made your peace with God."

 

" _Oui._ And I've already been sent to heaven a few times these past couple months. Now I’m going again", she said with a grin. Galais scoffed and spit on the platform. They stood her against the board and strapped  her in.  

 

 _Ehehehe and it was worth it_ , she thought to herself as they slid the board into position under the heavy blade.

 

"Get ready!" bellowed Galais, motioning to the platform crew. The priest frantically tried to administer Last Rites.

 

" _Mon amour_ , I hope you made it."she whispered softly as she closed her eyes, and taking a deep breath, she steeled  herself for the next life thinking about him and his sparkling blue eyes.

 

 


	12. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arno and Michael deal with the aftermath of what transpired in Chapter 11

Michael sat in Arno’s chair, turning the coin Arno had given Colette over and over in his hands. His whole body trembled, and he was sobbing loudly. Teardrops landed on the coin he clenched.

 

Arno padded over to him softly. Michael, looking down, stroked the coin, rubbing it between his thumb and pointer fingers. “I want you to know I appreciate everything you did to try and help us,” he said, looking up at Arno with tears in his eyes still.

 

“I only wish I could’ve done more,” he replied solemnly. “It was my privilege. Were you able to recover anything from your flat?”

 

“Aye. No one bothered me. Turns out, they were never really after me. I was just another way to find Colette and her uncles, a means to an end.” Tears welled up in his eyes again; he brushed them away with his sleeve. “I didn’t take everything, a couple changes of clothes, personal effects, money. Was mainly concerned with retrieving Colette’s things, like her letters and trinkets. And thanks to your generosity, I no longer have to pawn this to get out of the city,” he said, clasping Colette’s necklace in his other hand.

 

“Courage, man! And it was the least I could do. Her parents meant so much to the Brotherhood, and she to me. Now pull yourself together.”

 

“You don’t understand, mate. I almost lost her. I should’ve been more careful. Protected her better,” Michael said, jaw tightening and brows furrowed.

 

“You would be surprised on how much I could relate to that,” Arno answered, head dropping. He thought of Elise, but didn’t mention her.

  
  


“Are you two done comparing dick sizes, or do I have to whip my dagger out too?” Colette groggily quipped, emerging from Arno’s bed in the back section of his quarters.   
  


The men gasped, stunned at her speedy recovery.

 

Arno’s face twisted into a wry smile. “Well, I see the shock has worn off.”

 

“Someone’s definitely back to her old self. Maybe we should run, Arno,” laughed Michael.

 

Colette smirked. Escaping death made her feel feisty now that she had recovered. She had been surprised to open her eyes and not see her decapitated body, or else in another plane of existence..How Arno staged such a daring rescue, she didn’t know, but was sure she must've fainted because she had no recollection of being put in Arno's bed. She glided over to Michael and climbed up in his lap. He instinctively threw his arms around her in a tight hug. No way was she ever leaving his side again.

 

“Are you okay?” Michael asked, kissing the top of her head.  

 

“I’m fine. A little embarrassed. Did I faint? Either way, very grateful to be alive,” she replied.

 

“No, you didn’t faint, Colette. I hit you with a sleep dart. I needed you to stay put for the rescue to work,” Arno returned.

 

“What the hell, Arno? What if they managed to hit the release?” Colette queried, agitated.

 

“It was all planned from start to finish. The ones closest to it got hit after you. Add a few smoke bombs, and my brothers and I stormed the platform in a cloud of white smoke. They found their targets while I stole you off to safety.”

 

“And Galais,” asked Michael. “What of that sodding prick?”

 

“He got away,” Arno replied, bowing his head in regret.

 

“WHAT?! _Fils de salope_! (Son of a bitch!) Was that part of the plan? He should’ve been put down like the rabid dog he is!” Colette protested.

 

“No, it wasn’t. The coward hid under the platform as soon as he saw the guy next to him drop from the darts. Fast bastard. He had maybe a split second before we threw the smoke bombs. Don’t worry, the whole Brotherhood is after him. We’ll find him, Colette, I promise. And I’ll personally make him pay,” Arno continued, his voice deepening at the thought of what  he had in store for Galias.  He grimaced.   

 

“Come along, now. The carriage will be here shortly, and we still need to load your things.”

He was right, they’d no sooner made it down  to the side door to find a carriage awaiting for them in the courtyard.  Arno helped Michael load up their things, before they both ascended into the carriage. Arno held his hand out to assist Colette. She had that look in her eye again.

 

“Arno? Something is troubling me. After all that time, how did they find us?” Colette asked softly, her brown eyes searching his for answers.

 

Arno sighed. “Jasper.”  Colette started to speak, but Arno spoke, silencing her. “It wasn’t his fault. They caught him before he got back to me. They beat  him, tortured him for at least three hours. He didn’t want to give you up. He held out as long as he could. Then the bastards plunged a sword through his gut before he could even finish choking out  ‘Élysées’. I couldn’t get to him in time; I’m sorry.”  

 

“Poor Jasper!” she replied with a tear, taking his hand and stepping into the carriage. She took her place next to Michael. “You did your best, Arno. Please see to it that’s he’s given a proper burial. Did he have any family?”

 

“ None to speak of, and already, done Colette. We buried him next to your mother. She can look after him now.”

 

“That’s beautiful, _merci beaucoup_. I think she’d like that,” Colette replied, wiping away more tears.  Arno nodded; Michael squeezed her hand.  The rest of the journey  was spent in silence, both in somber remembrance for Jasper and nervousness of leaving this known life behind.

The carriage stopped at the familiar spot just east of the Pont Neuf. The trio clambered down to the docks where a boat was waiting. Arno waved at the oarsman, who tied the dory off and helped Michael load up.   
  
“Thanks again, Arno. I can never repay you for this,” Colette said, pouncing on him in a gigantic hug.

 

“Oof! Just take of yourself, that’s all I ask,” he said, straining under the surprise maneuver. ”Unless you want to join the Brotherhood? That’d be a big down payment,” he teased.

  
  


“No, don’t think I will. Don’t like to follow orders,” she winked. “So what happens here now?”

  
  


“I passed  the letters and documents you sent on to a man named Paul Barras. He's more eager than most to bring down Robespierre, and they will, no doubt, help to fortify his case tremendously. With any luck, we’ll be able to put this bloody Terror behind us soon.”

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to be an Assassin, Colette? We could use someone of your caliber,” Arno said helping her in the boat.

 

“No,” she laughed. “But don’t for one second think that I won’t be giving ‘em hell in New Orleans. “

 

“Oh, I would never doubt that, _mademoiselle_ ,” Arno chuckled. “Remember to write. I’ll have the New Orleans Assassins check in on you from time to time. They owe me a few favors.”

 

“Come see us sometime!” Michael suggested. “Don’t think you have to stay stuck in Paris all the damn time.”

 

“ _Merci, Monsieur_. I just might,” Arno returned, shaking his hand.  The oarsman cast off and they were away, rowing to the ship that would carry them to New Orleans like Sean and Jacques had not that long ago. Arno stared at them until they disappeared into the horizon.

  
  


Back in at the Café Théâtre, Arno stared at the set of Assassin’s robes Colette had passed on to him. He was pleased on how good it looked displayed among the other sets in his Legacy Room.

 

“Liam, Rosalie, that daughter of yours- she is something else. Not for the foolhardy, that’s for sure. She’d make an excellent Assassin, but you would be so proud no matter what she aspires,” he grinned.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that the events don't exactly line up with Arno's story in Assassin's Creed Unity. I had not played all the way through the main storyline when I wrote the majority of this. For that I apologize. Since I invoke poetic license and the "Alternative Universe" tag, I think I'm safe ;)
> 
> Also, thanks for reading! I appreciated any feedback. This was my first fanfic since I was like 16, 17 and was writing fluffy fics about the Hardy Boyz


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